


sons of odin

by wearethewitches



Series: the false passports scheme [2]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Character Study, Dimension Travel, F/M, Gen, Genderfluid Character, Genderfluid Loki (Marvel), Loki Does What He Wants, Loki Feels, Loki Has Issues, Loki's Kids, Loki-centric, Magic, Magic-Users, Parallel Universes, Protective Thor, Rule 63, Sibling Bonding, Siblings, Thor Feels, Thor Is a Good Bro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-23
Updated: 2017-07-23
Packaged: 2018-12-05 16:52:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11582235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wearethewitches/pseuds/wearethewitches
Summary: returning from a banishment that had him lost over a hundred years from Asgard, Thor begins to change in ways that Loki cannot truly believe - for what can living his life as George Kirk truly have done Loki's stubborn, immature brother?





	sons of odin

Thor comes back changed.

As his brother, Loki can see differences that others cannot – like how Thor speaks but does not share, like how Thor prefers to listen rather than speak. There are other things more obvious, yet subtle as they are specific to objects rather than people. Before, Thor would drape himself over chairs, posture slumped and casual. He would also only do this when having fun or at ease. Now, Thor sits in chairs as if he were some envoy from Alfheim, straight-backed and so used to such a stance that he doesn’t even think about it – and he sits like that always. When he is at ease, he sits so, when he is angry, he sits so.

It somewhat unnerves the God of Mischief.

The ‘punishment’ was supposed to make Thor more aware of other cultures, so distinctly racist and xenophobic that he was to the Vanir, disrupting a trade deal between Vanaheim and Muspelheim for a relatively newly discovered gaseous material that is still being argued over now, two hundred years later. Loki can definitely say that the punishment worked – he can also definitely say that his father will not use such an immersive punishment ever again. _Mother said as much, in any case._

“What species did the Allfather change Thor into, again?” Loki questions idly as he bites into a Golden Apple, Iðunn making an obscene gesture at him from the other side of the orchard as he does. Grinning at her, Loki almost misses his mothers response.

“Human.”

Loki immediately pauses. “I beg your pardon, Mother? I would have sworn you just said that Father transformed Thor into one of the most virile species in the universe.”

“Indeed,” Frigga sighs, swirling her goblet, the shimmering liquid a momentary hotspot of raw magic as his mother’s Sight flees back to the Roots of Yggdrasill. “He has two sons.”

“…oh my,” Loki slowly bites into his Apple again, thinking on the prospect. “Their mother?”

“Lost, though it is the Norns’ will. A destiny awaited her, in her home universe.”

Loki chokes, Frigga thwacking him on the back so he might unblock his airway. “ _Home universe?_ But that- that’s just preposterous!”

“Do you know why it took so long for Thor to return to us?” Frigga changes the subject, seemingly. “Your brother was gone for one hundred and seventy-six years, despite how he might argue it were only twenty-nine.”

Loki does the mathematics. “He is the same age as I.” A different line of thought occurs to him. _If we are the same age, I have the same right to the Throne._

“Yes, however the reason there is a disparity is because Odin used too much power. The Bifrost would have been a better option, rather than a Crack in the Walls of the Worlds. Thor was sent through the Walls of the Worlds into Nothing, except Odin did not guide him and Thor was not able to guide himself.”

The prince looks up at his mother in horror from his place on the grass, “No, that cannot be! He would have been lost!”

“Thor’s soul was lucky to fall through another Crack belonging to another universe, when his body was indeed lost,” Frigga says in a sober voice, meeting Loki’s eyes. “Thor survived because of many reasons, one of which being the tether he had to the Allfather. The magic wrought around him served as both a barrier and a shield. This is why he was reborn, rather than just misplaced somewhere as an amnesiac. In truth, the terms of his return would not have been fulfilled if he had not lived and grown in such a culture that he did, as George Kirk, but we would have been glad to have him returned to us, though he would still have been banished from Asgard.”

Loki latches on, “That was his name, in that other universe? George Kirk?” _A pitiful name, earthworker and church – wholly unbefitting of an Asgardian prince._

“It was and it brings him grief in other ways,” Frigga puts a hand to Loki’s shoulder. “Do not tease your brother or pressure him.”

“I will not, Mother.”

* * *

Never let it be said that Loki keeps his word, when it comes to his brother.

“Thor!” he calls, jogging to catch up with his brother as he walks with Sif, discussing adding his name to the city patrol roster again. “Thor,” Loki comes to his brothers side, grinning ear to ear. “Oh _George_.”

Thor snaps to look at him, looking caught off-guard, stopping in the middle of the corridor. “Where did you learn that name?”

“Mother,” Loki glances at a confused Sif, explaining with a gleaming, slippery smile. “Thor’s name has been _George Kirk_ during his lost years.”

“Loki,” Thor starts quietly, “Do not.”

“Do not _what_ , brother? Call you George? It is your name, from where you left, is it not?” Loki tilts his head, wanting to see what his brother will do. _Will he bend to his new personhood or be who he truly is?_ “Or were you referred to as _Kirk?_ Master Kirk, o fair Master Kirk-”

Loki laughs when Thor presses him to a wall. It’s a curiosity that his face is pressed against stone, his arms held behind him rather than being held in a chokehold, as per usual.

“If you insist on calling me by my human name, then at least get it right, Loki,” Thor says in a quiet, low, thunderous tone, literal thunder rumbling in the distance. Lightning crackles in the sky, striking the awaiting steel poles littered around the city. _Ooh, he really is angry,_ the God of Mischief thinks, before listening to his brother speak _._ “Lieutenant-Commander George Kirk, First Officer of the U.S.S. _Kelvin-_ ” he stops quickly, grip abruptly loosening before he lets go completely, as if scalded or burned. “No.”

“No?” Loki turns languidly, leaning up against the wall as he rubs his wrists, eyeing his brother with amusement – amusement that fades shortly, along with Loki’s smile. “You seem distraught, brother.”

The problem is that Thor _does_ look distraught – stricken. He swallows, swaying and staggering slightly before answering.

“No, I am not Lieutenant-Commander. I- I was Captain. Captain of the U.S.S. _Kelvin_ , for all of ten minutes, eleven…twelve. Twelve minutes. Winona got away, James was born and then I died. I sacrificed myself for them. Norns, how did she explain to Samuel that I died? He does not- did not, even understand the concept of death yet.” Thor puts a hand to his head, shutting his eyes. “James…”

 _Winona must have been his wife,_ Loki watches his brother. _Samuel and James his two sons, James the youngest, newest – newly born. O what a fate, to die, to sacrifice, for your children._ Loki knows much of sacrifice, of losing children and family. He thinks of forbidden names and faces, wondering what _this_ Thor, who has lived and suffered tragedy for the sake of his blood, would have done in the place of his former self.

“Who is…James?” Sif questions his brother slowly, but Thor shakes his head violently, walking away rapidly. _It would have looked better if he were wearing his cloak_ , Loki thinks in the back of his mind as he watches his brother’s exit, calculating and deciding. Sif glances at the green-clothed prince. “Loki, I do not think you should have spoken to him of such things.”

“He needs to speak of these things. He will never be able to return there. This _James_ is, more than likely, my nephew – however, he is in another universe, along with his brother, the _Samuel_ child who is too young to understand mortality.” Loki doesn’t stick around to see Sif’s reaction to his words, teleporting to the Royal Library. Removing his helmet, he scans the high shelves, wonder which section he should begin reading first.

_‘Never’ is such an overused word._

As if Loki will let his nephews remain in another universe to age to death – to live and die, unknowing of the truth, of their true people and heritage.

 _No, I think not,_ he twists his head around, spinning twice, then thrice, before deciding where to start. He summons a book from a high, high shelf. _James – ‘he who grasps the heel’, ‘supplanter’ – and Samuel – ‘name of a deity’, ‘a deity is heard’. I will find you both and you will be Princes of Asgard, to live forever in the golden halls of Asgard, even if I have to rip the Walls of the Worlds to do it. Your mother, too. Lady Winona – ‘firstborn daughter’ – wherever you might be and whatever destiny awaits you, I shall come to your aid and reunite you with my brother, so that you might be given a Golden Apple of Iðunn and be crowned Princess and future Queen of the Nine Realms._

Loki will bring them home.

_I will not see any more of my family lost._

* * *

The Court of Asgard is famous for many reasons. Thousands of years old, the great palace of the Allkings and Allqueens has stood through trials and tribulations, but only because of the arguments, outbursts, disagreements and drunken mishaps of the Court has it ever had to face such things in the first place. Loki has heard whispers of what it had been like before his birth – of servants constantly mopping blood and ale from the floor, always more red than brown.

Loki, in far more recent years, knows he has provided ‘entertainment’. The things he has done in the golden halls of his home both shame and decorate him, his reputation one of mischief, trickery and chaos. _It is no true wonder that said aspects of creation are mine to monitor and manipulate._

“Will you not drink with us, Prince Loki?” Fandral asks, twinkling eyes telling a tale themselves. Loki half-closes his book, ignoring the party around them as Thor and Volstagg attempt to outdrink the other. “It is a fine night when such a Silvertongue as you gets involved.”

“Unfortunately, I am afraid I must disappoint, as I have no intention of drowning myself in spirits this feast-night,” Loki replies cordially.

“A shame,” Fandral pronounces, sipping his tankard and coming to sit on the tabletop, leaning over slightly. “Might you instead join me for a night of pleasure, then, my prince?” He winks with a grin, Loki giving an amused smile.

“You must truly have lost your wits, to ask me such a favour.”

“Ah, this would be no favour, Loki, but a mutually beneficial meeting of bodies,” Fandral might have wanted to say more, but Thor’s hand clasps on his shoulder. Loki glances at his brother, who seems particularly murderous, if somewhat blank-faced.

“Fandral, you are my friend, but if you intend to continue this line of conversation with my sibling-”

“Sibling?” Loki blurts out, all amusement lost as he looks at Thor in strange fascination. His brother pauses, hand slipping from Fandral’s shoulder. “You…you always call me brother.”

“You…” Thor starts, conflict apparent. “You are not always my brother and it is not fair to so label you.”

“Label-” Loki starts, shutting his book entirely and standing, tense and unsettled by Thor’s words. “Is this the upbringing of George Kirk showing through? Did your new life give you such beliefs? Do you think I care for such sentiments?”

“Yes,” Thor says immediately and for a moment, Loki is lost. He thinks to the Thor that had thought nothing of referring to Loki by male stylings while in the form of a woman, even when asked bit to; to the Thor that had followed Odin’s order to the letter and bound his children in chains of the Allfather’s design; to the Thor that would have never thought of Loki’s needs, wants and _feelings_.

Fandral laughs awkwardly then. “I see the drink has affected you, my prince. You are thousands of years old – you would not be so changed by your other experiences, so quickly, aye?”

“Nay, Fandral,” Thor says, frowning at Loki. “Indeed, my life gave me perspective, for now. I have acted abominably at times where I should have been caring and supportive.”

“You have always acted finely, true to the expectations of the King-” Fandral starts, before Thor cuts him off, nailing him with a glare.

“ _No_. Many of the actions I have taken in the past were wrong and unforgiveable. I have condemned and belittled other beings for petty and _ridiculous_ reasons. I have imprisoned my own blood and called them monsters, because my father said so and because what is clearly a self-fulfilling prophecy.”

 _This is not my brother_ , Loki thinks as Thor turns back to him, suddenly so foreign to him that not even his face, of which Loki knows every dip, line and curve, every expression and movement, can calm him. _This is not my brother._

Around the hall, there are still merrymakers. They sing, drink and dance, even as the music dies away. The table around them is silent, watching, their eyes unblinking as Thor speaks.

“I cannot offer an apology that could make up for everything I have done to you,” he says. _I am glad for your lack of cloak,_ Loki thinks, _for it would make this moment magnanimous and unbalanced._ Thor stands in front of him, in the barest of his armours, clothed as Loki is in a simple padded tunic, trousers and boots. “Nothing I can ever do could make up for the way I have treated you, in any way. My life as George Joseph Kirk, Captain of the U.S.S. _Kelvin_ changed me in ways I do not know. Every decision I have made since returning to Asgard, I have questioned, deciding whether to act as _Thor_ or _George_. I have looked back on my true existence and found myself unworthy, which is why none of you have seen me wield Mjolnir.”

It’s a slap in the face to Loki, who hadn’t even realised. _His precious hammer won’t-_ Loki doesn’t even know how to entertain the thought, he cannot even think it, incapable of imagining his brother _without_ …without the weapon that is his divine right to hold and bear.

“Loki, you are my sibling,” Thor continues. “You may not be the only one, true as that might be, but you are the one who has been by my side since our cradle-years and it should be you that I respect, as my equal in all things.”

“Equal?” Loki utters, finally interrupting. “We were never equals.”

“We are now,” Thor says, looking to their father, as if daring him to rebuke his words.

 _In his head, he is favouring Thor. He has always favoured him and that will not stop with a simple statement,_ Loki thinks before breathing in deeply, shutting his eyes. _But he does a good show at hiding it._

“Surely you jest, Thor,” Volstagg questions, unusually serious – though he still sways.

“I do not jest. Loki and I are the same age, now. It would be nigh on impossible to determine who is the older. I am no longer the elder and I will endeavour to make that well known by the time that the decision on whom is to reign as Allfather on the Asgardian Throne is to be made.”

Loki’s eyes snap open.

_The Asgardian Throne._

“You’re serious,” Loki looks at his brother in slight surprise, opinion finally shifting. “You truly have changed. You mean to keep your word.”

Thor nods sharply. “I do and I swear to you that I will make up my misdeeds.”

“…you have many misdeeds to make up,” Loki replies slowly. He does not look to Odin as he thinks of his many children – and then, his nephews and sister by law. “I accept your vow and in pleasant exchange, offer you this promise: I will try, to the best of my abilities, to find your sons and wife and reunite you all.”

Predictably, there are many different reactions to his words, but the only one Loki cares for is Thor’s. His brother does not disappoint, a treasuring smile growing on his face.

“I accept your oath,” Thor replies, before holding his arm out over the table. Taking it, Loki squeezes as tight as he can, his magic swirling inside him and rising. It is green to his eyes, circling their arms and binding them both to each other, their word their bond. To all others who do not practice magic, Loki knows it is invisible.

So, as Thor’s eyes lower to watch it sink into their skin, Loki discovers something interesting and new.

_My brother can see magic._

* * *

The character of a person is seen in how they react to situations. For example – when a young but clever Fenrir was bound for the third time in chains, the one who agreed to put their hand in his mouth as an act of good faith was his uncle, Tyr, who knew that upon realising the chains made were dwarven-made and unbreakable, Fenrir would eat his hand.

Tyr’s character is not derived from his willingness to give his hand for his cause.

Fenrir Lokison, a shapeshifter at birth, able to morph between aesir and lupine forms, was a child when Odin decreed he must be bound. Tyr, a general of his army and bastard son, volunteered to try binding a _child_ , knowing his strengths but also knowing his young, young age. Loki thinks of his half-brother with hatred and vitriol, never giving himself a moment to forget that it was _his_ son that Tyr lost his hand to and it was _his_ son that he bound.

Loki and Tyr do not get on. The opposite can be said for Tyr and Thor – or at least, it could have been said, before Thor returned from his New Life in the other universe.

“You do not have to fight with him for me,” Loki says quietly as they stand on the edge of the training grounds. Sweat dribbles down Thor’s forehead, a testament to how hard he has been training for the past few hours. Barely two hundred yards away, Tyr is in much the same state, except his pours a skin of wine down his gullet with his single hand as another soldier sews a cut on his shoulder shut, an accidental courtesy of Thor’s nails.

“He bears his lacking proudly – and is fighting not a good idea, when trying to train?”

“Tyr is one of few who still boasts of his sacrifice,” Loki replies. “Beating each other into pulp isn’t the easy course of revenge, especially seeing as he can match you on the battlefield.”

“But it is satisfying,” Thor says, before he turns away slightly. Loki is quick to skirt around to face him again, pausing upon seeing his face.

“…you do not have to punish yourself, Thor. You are…you are on my side. You are loyal to me in a way you were not before.”

“I deserve many things. The results of a thorough sparring session are negligible in the long line of punishments I truly deserve,” Thor says, before taking a cloth that a servant offers, padding his face. “Thank-you,” he says, upon handing it back.

“You have changed, brother,” Loki lays her hand on his shoulder, attracting his attention. There is a long silence as he actually looks upon Loki’s female form properly. Loki knows she is different as a woman, bodily if not facially. There is very little she changes when she is female. In truth, she is androgynous naturally. Lengthening and thickening her hair and removing her laryngeal prominence are the only obvious differences, disregarding the major additions and remissions of genitalia and breast.

“Have I ever told you that you are beautiful, sister?” Thor asks quietly. Loki feels a flush rise in her cheeks as she quickly removes her hand from his shoulder.

“No, you have not.”

“Well, you are,” he smiles at her, eyes crinkling and his teeth showing slightly. “Always.”

“Thank-you,” Loki replies, his words raising her self-confidence little by little. “What brought that on?”

Thor hesitates, smile dimming a little before he speaks. “My wife did not truly believe me whenever I told her she was beautiful. Her past was mired with mystery, but there were certain things that were…obvious. Compliments rarely broke through to her soul, for she had been surrounded by falsity and untruth. It occurred to me that I had never seen you nor told you the truth of yourself.”

“I know my own worth, Thor, I don’t need you to tell me,” Loki argues, because she _does_. After so long, she knows her worth, her beauty-

“Aye, but sometimes, the difference is someone else believing it too.” Thor intones, interrupting her thoughts. Loki is not given a chance to reply before a messenger comes up to him, Odin requesting her brother’s time. Loki watches him as he leaves, accepting the kiss to her cheek, like he does to their mother, with slight confusion. Once he is gone from the training fields, Loki departs also, thinking on his words and truly wondering at the miracle that was his banishment.

* * *

Research on interdimensional travel fills the Great Library, but an insufficient amount of research describes _universal_ travel. What Loki finds in the pages of old tomes and scrolls describes is what is already known to them and precious few lines, let alone passages even _hypothesise_ how it might be done. Loki cannot turn to known alternative methods to track a path to Thor’s sons either, as the blood magic involved would require _George Kirk’s_ blood – not Prince Thor of Asgard’s.

 _Even if it worked, I would not be able to find the Lady Winona, either,_ Loki thinks, tired and despondent from the lack of options left. Thoughts drifting, Loki thinks of Thor. Ever since that feast, Thor has been more and more distant from his friends – so very, _very_ different from his former self. If Loki’s hadn’t known better, they’d have said the soul inhabiting his body wasn’t his at all.

… _soul. Soul!_

Loki shoot up straight, eyes widening.

“Souls are unique!” The words come out as a hissed shout and Loki stands, teleporting to the Queen’s Parlour, Frigga’s wards letting Loki in without protest. Appearing outside the circle of Frigga’s ladies in waiting, Loki does not tarry. “Mother.”

“Yes, Loki?” she stops conversing with Nani to look at her child, brow furrowing slightly. “What is it?”

“Souls – if one knows it, they can track it, can they not? And souls that belong to specific bodies, tied there by fate, can find their doppelgangers?”

“Indeed and yes, to both queries.” Frigga frowns. “What is this about, Loki? Are you to try returning Hela to the realm of the living, for you know she has duties-”

“This is not about my daughter,” Loki interrupts, heart in their throat at the mention of their dearest girl but their mind still flying across galaxies in seconds. “According to that logic, would it not be correct that souls may find their fated doppelgangers in other universes?”

Frigga’s eyes widen and she sets down her tea to stand. “Loki, that is dangerous magic. The Nothing between universes-”

“-can be traversed, if there is enough magical power to protect the soul. Thor proved that, even if his body died on the way there.” Loki comes to stand in front of the Queen, taking her hands. “Mother, help me.”

Frigga stares at Loki for a long few moments, her ladies in waiting silent as the grave. Loki sees and senses the Sight in her, showing her things that Loki will never be able to comprehend. When the Sight leaves her, she squeezes Loki’s hands tightly, nodding.

* * *

The book page crackles slightly as it’s turned, withered and brittle. Stephanie glances up from the pages in time to meet Wong’s eyes, before the undeniable sight of magic has them both on their feet, a dark green portal slowly circling into existence. Raising her hands in a defensive manoeuvre, her cloak lifting him up off the ground slightly, Stephanie watches it grow in size until it abruptly stops.

Wong skirts around it, the two sorcerers glancing at each other before looking back to the portal, the dark, forest green circle barely bigger than a car wheel. For a long few moments, there’s nothing – no sound and no movement.

Then, a woman comes falling out of it, landing gracefully, if in a heap, on the ground. The portal disappears shortly and Stephanie tenses as the woman stands, eyes widening at the feminine face.

“Loki,” the Sorcerer Supreme gasps. “But you’re supposed to be a man.”

Loki gives a catlike grin, twirling a knife in her left hand. “I think you’ll find that I am…oh, what’s the word? _Genderfluid,_ quite literally, because of the magic involved.”

“What do you want?” Stephanie questions as she takes that in. “Why aren’t you imprisoned?”

Loki tilts her head. “Interesting. I’ll assume my counterpart has done something. Apparently, this parallel world is several hundred years further forwards than my own.”

“Parallel worlds don’t exist,” Wong says, Loki shaking her head.

“Tut tut.”

“Are you perhaps referring to parallel dimensions?” Stephanie tries.

“No,” Loki says, before tucking her knife away. “That kind of distinction is, however, precisely why I am here. You see, I require your help, Doctor Strange – would you be willing to give it to me?”


End file.
